‘Paradise’ Stars Julianne Hough as a Naïf in Las Vegas

Paradise

From left, Julianne Hough, Russell Brand and Octavia Spencer in “Paradise,” written and directed by Diablo Cody.Credit
John Bramley/Image Entertainment

The problems with “Paradise,”Diablo Cody’s first directing effort and fourth produced screenplay, begin almost immediately as its damaged heroine, the ickily named Lamb (Julianne Hough), sits on a beach and — in singularly annoying voice-over — catches us up on her life so far. This cheap trick might help Ms. Cody avoid actually showing us things, but it doesn’t bode well for what’s to come.

“The old me was content, virtuous,” Lamb tells us, referring to her home-schooled, church-filled upbringing in a small Montana town. But that was before the plane crash that left her burned in body and sour in spirit. Determined to experience the earthly pleasures so far denied her, Lamb packs her bags, elbows aside God and her scandalized parents (Holly Hunter and Nick Offerman) and heads for Las Vegas. Before this is over, she might even embrace evolution.

Like much of Ms. Cody’s work, “Paradise” plays out in quippy sound bites, only this time they feel entirely unsuited to Lamb’s sheltered background. Accordingly, neither the character nor the dialogue — too tired to be funny, too vinegary to excite warmth and too dull to skewer the film’s fundamentalist underpinnings — jells, leaving Ms. Hough hobbled in more ways than one. Virtually devoid of makeup, and with her marvelously mobile body encased in thick compression garments, she’s unrecognizable as the “Dancing With the Stars” alum whose moves could make a camera sit up and beg. Here, she’s a sweet but indistinct presence with a generic prettiness and middling acting skills that lack the zing required to snag our attention.

“I’m a slut!” Lamb crows, perched chastely on a couch alongside a friendly bartender (Russell Brand, mercifully subdued and hence slightly more palatable than usual). Together, he and a weary lounge singer (played to low-key perfection by Octavia Spencer) act as Lamb’s guides to a Vegas that badly needs a break from Hollywood screenplays. (Dare we hope that “Last Vegas,” a “Hangover” for codgers, due out soon, is accurately titled?)

You’d never know that much of the filming took place in New Orleans. The exterior shots feel strangely lifeless; even the Fremont Street zip line seems to sag. This lethargy extends to the unimaginative, television-ready framing and messy medium shots that never bring Lamb’s journey into focus. Seesawing between wide-eyed ignorance and knee-jerk bigotry, the character seems burdened by at least two unreconciled personalities. Unfortunately, neither one is worth the price of admission.